


Nothing, but with you

by idontshipiyatch



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Emotional Comfort, F/M, One Shot, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontshipiyatch/pseuds/idontshipiyatch
Summary: “What are you doing?” he asks after plugging your music out with one hand, discarding the blanket over your legs with the other.Sighing, you roll back on your side. “Nothing, leave me alone.”“That’s my line,” he huffs, and you yelp when he nudges you further into the bed. You glance back at him with a frown and it’s your turn to ask, “What are you doing?”He shrugs, “Nothing, but with you.”
Relationships: Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 104





	Nothing, but with you

The knock on the door is persistent, but the sound only challenges you to be more stubborn. Shoving your earphones in, you turn to have your back to the entrance for good measure before increasing the volume loud enough to drown out the noise.

A hand tugs the covers off you a moment later, startling you in the process and you snap your attention to the intruder with a glare, but the immediate hostility falters when Belphegor quirks an unfazed eyebrow down at you. “What are you doing?” he asks after plugging your music out with one hand, discarding the blanket over your legs with the other.

Sighing, you roll back on your side. “Nothing, leave me alone.”

“That’s my line,” he huffs, and you yelp when he nudges you further into the bed. You glance back at him with a frown and it’s your turn to ask, “What are you doing?”

He shrugs, “Nothing, but with you.”

Opening your mouth to protest, he silences you with a stare. “Y/n, don’t bother, I’m not leaving,” he declares, and his tone is firm enough to make you surrender.

You feel him shuffle close after he brings the covers back up on you two, and he spoons you, making himself comfortable against your back before resting his hands on your stomach.

Thoughts wandering, you wonder if you should speak, ignite your characteristic chatter, but Belphegor’s breath tickles your neck before you can decide. “You don’t have to talk.”

Closing your eyes because you don’t want to lose the fight against the tears you’ve been doing a fairly good job at repressing, goosebumps set off when Belphegor easily ruins your effort. Lips brushing against your nape, he whispers, “You can cry though.”

Words knotted in your throat, you push through the tangles. “Why would I wanna cry?” Instead of casual, the question comes out as a croaked mumble, and you inwardly curse your voice for betraying you.

You feel him shrug. “I don’t know,” he says, and you grit your teeth because you don’t either and the shame coating that ignorance isn't something you want anyone to witness. “But you still can.”

Wary of another slip-up, you don’t reply, but your fingers move to curl around his forearm after a few minutes. His breathing is steady and he doesn’t ask questions you don’t have answers to. He holds you close, and while having him pressed against you makes his presence noticeable, the quiet of the room doesn’t feel very different from before.

Except that this time, when your chest gets tight and silent tears start falling, lips pepper your neck with a wordless comfort that you, although reluctantly at first, welcome when the sobs you so hate finally come out. He shifts you in his arms to tuck you against him and his hands stroke your back, soothing as syllables form on your tongue. They bump into each other when they tumble from your mouth, “I don’t even know why.”

Resting his cheek on your head, he sighs and hugs you tighter. “It doesn’t really make a difference though, does it?” You shake your head, and your next exhale is shaky, but it also halts the turmoil falling from your lashes. It was brief, and relief settles in your bones that he didn’t have to witness the full-blown storm that sometimes clouds your mind.

Focusing on the rhythm of his breaths, you close your eyes, and time stops spinning. His touch moves, idly drifting between your lower back to your nape, and his lips ghost over your cheek, your nose, your brow. It’s unhurried, and you melt, gradually loosening from the strings of tension that had viciously strapped your thoughts and body.

“Let’s go have a snack with Beel,” he says after you’re limp in his arms and close to tipping into sleep. “You haven’t gone out of your room since yesterday morning, you must be hungry.”

You don’t ask how he knows that, but you press a kiss to his collarbone before you both sit up. “Thank you.”

His lips twitch with fondness, “Call me when you feel like that, y/n, I know how it feels.”

The offer isn’t pressuring, and the way he holds your hand as you make your way to the kitchen is just as casual. But in the realm of a clouded heart you sometimes get trapped in, it gleams bright. So you don’t reply, but you keep the invitation tucked at hand’s reach in your head, and he must sense it because there’s quiet satisfaction in the way he looks at you.

**Author's Note:**

> 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩  
>   
> 📍 [where to find me](https://mooniv.carrd.co/)  
>   
> D.


End file.
